


that one where dean -- y'know

by rei_c



Series: The Genderfluid(ity) 'Verse [25]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Blood Drinking, Crazy Sam Winchester, Dead Dean Winchester, Demon Deals, F/M, I'm Sorry, POV Sam Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-07
Updated: 2018-03-07
Packaged: 2019-03-28 06:48:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 727
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13898577
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rei_c/pseuds/rei_c
Summary: They go to confront Lilith and fail. Miserably.(aka, the one where dean is dead and sam loses it.)





	that one where dean -- y'know

Dean has been dead for five hours. Sam's sitting in the Impala's passenger seat and every time there's movement out of the corner of her eyes, her heart skips a beat, tells her to look, that she imagined everything, that it was all a dream but -- it wasn't. It was real. The person behind the wheel is Bobby. Bobby's driving. Bobby's got salt-tracks down his cheeks and he hasn't said anything for fifty miles but he's the one driving.

It's not Dean. Because Dean is dead. Dean has been dead for five hours and Sam is riding in his car, letting someone else drive his car, because every time she moves, she feels -- everything. She feels everything. 

Dean is dead. Dean has been dead for five hours and Sam can't seem to summon the emptiness she felt when the Trickster -- for all those Tuesdays. She's desperate for emptiness. She would kill -- anyone, she'd kill anyone to feel blank and cold and hard and empty. 

She feels everything. Because Dean is dead. Dean has been dead for five hours. Sam feels enough for both of them. If only she could've beaten Lilith with _feelings_. If only she could've found a way. If only she could've saved Dean. 

But she couldn't. And Dean is dead.

"We should stop for gas," she says. It's the first time she's said anything since she got into the car. Her voice box is filled with screams. A high, wheezing keen is lodged in her throat. Bobby looks over at her like he can't believe she made words, either. Like he doesn't recognise the sound of her voice either. Like he pities her. 

"Yeah," he says, "okay," and exits the highway. When he goes inside to prepay, Sam slides over to the driver's seat and takes off. She adjusts the rearview so she can't see -- so she can't see the backseat. 

In her tangle of emotions, she feels no guilt at leaving Bobby behind. 

\--

Dean has been dead for four days. Sam cleaned up his body as best she could, touched every one of his scars, sewed up every one of the marks the hellhounds left, dressed him in his favourite jeans. She put him in a coffin and buried him and didn't move from the side of his grave for thirteen hours. 

She's alone, in a motel room, and Dean has been dead for four days. She hasn't eaten, hasn't cleaned herself, has barely managed to sleep before she wakes up to nightmare visions of Dean and hounds and Dean and blood and Dean and Lilith and Dean, Dean, _Dean_ , dead, dead, _dead_. Dean has been dead for four days and the emptiness she'd been craving is finally approaching. She can feel the calm, blank clarity of the mission starting to seal over the raging turmoil in her gut. 

\--

Dean. Five days. Dead. Six days. Seven days. Dean has been dead for seven days. Dean has been dead for one week. Dean has been dead for the entire time Sam's been twenty-five. Dean has been in hell -- in hell because of her, for her, _all her fault_ \-- for what feels like forever. 

Lilith killed him, Lilith _took him from her_ , and Dean has been dead because of Lilith for seven days. 

Dean has been dead for one week and Lilith is living on borrowed time. Sam picks up the phone, pulls out a number from a box given to her by a witch, and makes a call because Dean has been dead for one hundred and seventy three hours and every hour is its own eternity.

\--

Dean has been dead for eight days. Sam answers a knock on the door. 

"Abaddon," the demon outside says. "A knight of hell. Here to help you get your brother back -- if you'll let me." 

"I'll do anything," Sam says, because Dean has been dead for eight days. 

Abaddon smiles. "Anything," she says. Her black eyes gleam. "I can work with that." 

Dean has been dead for eight days. Sam opens the door wide and invites a knight of hell into her room, her life, her mouth, her veins. Because Dean has been dead for eight days. 

Sam feels a calm blanket of focus cover the tempest of maddened grief her body has become. Dean has been dead. Dean _is_ dead. And Sam will get him back.


End file.
